


Training in Any Weather

by mssrj_335



Series: KrampusKinkPrompts2020 [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: A goddamn mockery of it lmao, Banter, Blow Jobs, Co-Generals, Competence Kink, Competent Finn (Star Wars), Dominant Poe Dameron, Established Relationship, Finn's here for it, Force-enhanced oral, Hair-pulling, If You Squint - Freeform, Jedi Finn (Star Wars), Jedi Training (Star Wars), KrampusKinkathon2020, Learning the Force (Star Wars), Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Poe Dameron, Poe Dameron's Mouth is a Gift, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Praise Kink, Relationship Goals, Rough Kissing, Snowed In, Sparring, Teacher Poe Dameron, Teasing, Tenderness, This is like ¾ build up ¼ smut lmao, kind of, kind of lol, so that's a thing now, this is a finn appreciation post
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:27:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28000134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssrj_335/pseuds/mssrj_335
Summary: Finn is having trouble with his Force training, with letting go of what he has learned and letting the Force flow freely. Poe decides to help him, albeit in an unusual way.--snowed-in smut for KrampusKinkathon2020~
Relationships: Finn/Poe Dameron, Finnpoe, Poe Dameron/Finn, Stormpilot - Relationship
Series: KrampusKinkPrompts2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2039206
Comments: 27
Kudos: 51
Collections: Krampus Kink-a-thon





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gmariam19 (gmariam)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gmariam/gifts).



“You’re gonna freeze to death out there.”

Finn scoffs, mostly naked and peeking out the bunker window. “Just because it’s snowing doesn’t mean I get out of training. What’m I gonna tell Rey if she comes back and I can’t even move a kriffing rock?”

“You can move a kriffing rock, I’ve seen you do it!” Poe huffs back, blowing a wayward curl out of his eye at the old worry. “You do know this is supposed to be a vacation right? Only you would get antsy during Snow-pocalypse.”

“You picked Lothal in winter. Of course it’s snowing!”

“ _You_ wanted to see the—the uh, the space-wizard-temple-thing! Besides, you can still relax when it’s snowing. I’d argue it’s the best time to.”

“Says the man who’s still pouring over his datapad.”

“You leave my datapad outta this. Even if you do get done whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing, you’re gonna lose your damn toes.”

Finn just makes a noise in his throat and wanders off.

“Don’t forget your hat!”

Clearly, Finn’s in not-give-a-shit mode. And this frustration of his isn’t new. It’s been building since the events leading to Exegol, when Finn got his real first taste of the Force. Clean-up efforts and all the post-war bureaucracy haven’t exactly given him much time to practice. But he’s trying, and Poe’s proud of him for that. More than he ever could say, probably. The problem here is Finn’s trying when he’s supposed to be relaxing. Getting a month’s time to themselves was near impossible. When they’d finally finagled the work into trusted hands, Finn let himself rest about five days. Then the worry came creeping in. The man doesn’t have a damn off switch—a First Order habit he probably won’t ever break. Finn wanders back in, fully dressed this time. Poe would strangle him if he didn’t look so handsome. Maybe it’s the boots, because they’re damn good boots that Poe picked especially for him. Or maybe it’s Poe’s hat, shoved on his head and pulled down to almost his eyes, flattening his grey-tipped twist out.

Poe smiles to himself. Well, at least Finn’s listening some. The hat is a surprise; Poe figured he’d have to climb Finn’s shoulders to get it on him. Not that he would mind any time on Finn’s shoulders. But that’s a whole matter beside the point. Poe’s figured out by now to just let him work through it, help when he can and let the general struggle when he can’t. So when Finn stomps outside, Poe turns back to his datapad and doesn’t think too much of it.

Not until over an hour later. His single-mindedness flakes out on him and he leans back to three—no, four solid pops in his back, and he realizes: Finn’s still not back inside. He peeks out the living room window. Snow’s coming down in fat clumps again and Finn, poor guy, lays flat out in a snowbank at least two feet deep. Gesticulating wildly at the sky with his white saber, probably yelling some colorful obscenities he learned from Rey. Poe sighs, crosses his arms. Finn yells something else then lets his limbs drop rather pathetically into the snow. Ok, yeah that needs to be addressed. Maybe he’s vented most of his frustrations waving his saber around, maybe he’ll talk about it. Who knows? Poe only knows that’s his cue. Finn’s had enough time doing whatever it is he’s doing alone. So Poe fills a thermajug with mulled wine—a peace offering—and decides, screw it. He shoves bare feet into his boots, doesn’t bother changing out of his comfortable clothes. Just shrugs on a jacket and heads out into the snow. Wordlessly, he sinks into the drift at Finn’s side. Carefully avoids the silvery saber still hissing in the snow. His co-general deactivates his blade and groans upright as Poe pours him a steaming cup.

“You sure you’re not Force-sensitive?” Finn grumbles, albeit with a teasing tone.

“Only when it comes to you, sweetheart.”

Finn fiddles with his cup, opting to hook his saber back on his belt first. Poe sips his wine and waits. He doesn’t even look at Finn, just watches the snow drift down on the distant mountains until he’s ready to talk. And eventually, he does.

“You always know what I need, don’t you?” Finn haltingly asks.

Poe chances a glance over at him and gently smiles. “I try. Kinda my job, isn’t it?”

Finn snorts. “A _job_? I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Call you my passion-project then,” Poe eases a hand on Finn’s thigh and squeezes, “‘cause you’re my favorite challenge.”

It’s meant to be a joke, and Finn does chuckle a bit, but it’s far off what Poe was hoping for. So he waits a little longer. Finn’s quiet for a moment, swallowing a few mouthfuls of wine. Snow starts to melt into Poe’s pants but he’s playing the patience game with a Jedi and he hates to lose. It’ll take a lot more than a cold ass to break his focus.

“I don’t mean to be, you know,” Finn says softly. “I’m not sure I like being a challenge.”

Poe hides his curious squint behind his cup before he replies, “It’s not a bad thing.”

Finn sighs, deep and exhausted, and leans into Poe’s shoulder. _Oh, there we go_. Making progress.

“I know it’s not. But it _feels_ like it is. I wouldn’t be such a pain in the ass if I could just _get this_.”

“You’re not a pain in the ass.” Finn gives him a skeptical look; Poe chuckles. “Well, not all the time. And especially not about this. You’re trying to learn somethin’ that hasn’t been rightly taught in ages. All you have are bits and pieces to go on. So I’d say you’re making some progress! Look how far you’ve come!”

“It doesn’t feel like I’ve gone far at all.”

“Well, what’s it feel like then?”

“ _Frustrating_ ,” Finn grinds out. “It’s always ‘let the Force flow through you’ and ‘let go of what you’ve learned so you can relearn it’ but what does that _mean_? How’m I supposed to just let things go? Rey’s not very good at explaining it, Luke and Leia are gone, and it feels like there’s not a being in this entire galaxy that can help me _understand_.”

Poe’s silent, but only because he’s mentally kicking himself. Of course Finn’s frustrated by not being able to ‘get it’ right off. He’s excelled at everything he’s tried, until now. Poe hasn’t forgotten what it feels like to hit a block. But more than that, Poe should’ve known it was a control thing. It’s something that’s come to define him, in Poe’s mind: having control. Finn—deserter, rebel, leader—is in charge of himself ninety-nine percent of the time. It’s that First Order history that makes him crave agency. And maybe some other things that he hasn’t seen fit to share yet. But for twenty-three years of his life, Finn didn’t _have_ agency. He was as much a tool as a hydrospanner, a fact that still breaks Poe’s heart. Now, after seven years of making strides, of life on the outside of the machine, living with only himself to answer to, the Jedi still struggles letting go of _anything_. For all his incredible focus and skill, Finn's greatest enemy is often himself.

Why should the Force be any different?

_But maybe it can be used to teach him_. The thought strikes just as Finn stiffens against him, like he’s making to move away. _Shit, thought too long_.

“I might be able to help you.” Poe downs the rest of his wine and Finn freezes. “Come inside, I’ll show you.”

“Why not out here?”

Poe smiles, actually has to stifle a snicker as he gets to his feet. “Trust me,” he says, offering Finn his hand, “it won’t work out here.”

The look he gets is skeptical at best but the hand that finds his is answer enough.

Once inside, Poe doesn’t hurry about it. He takes the cups and thermajug to the kitchen while Finn cleans up. It gives Poe enough time to change into something comfortable, dry and black, and grab a few…necessary items. _Ahem_ , not that he has ulterior motives or anything. The lesson is first and foremost. Doesn’t hurt to be prepared though. Finn pads back in just as he finishes tucking the _things_ away by the couch, one hiding in his pocket.

“Ok hotshot,” Finn mumbles, crossing his arms over his bare chest, “whatcha got for me?”

Poe has to take a second to breathe and stay collected. It’s not that he’s never seen Finn shirtless before—he’s seen the man naked as the day he was born. But there’s something about the stance, the body language… The way his biceps curve over tight-balled fists, the slope of his bare shoulders turning into himself even though his feet spread wide and his back stays ramrod straight to face whatever Poe’s going to throw at him. Never an off switch, even when he doesn’t want to do something. It’s a trait he so admires and it’s so evident in the lines of his body. He’s breathtaking. Poe inwardly sighs. Half in frustrated lust, half in wonder.

“What?”

Poe clears his throat, carefully smiling at Finn’s narrowed gaze. “Nothin’. Come in here, I’m not gonna bite.”

Well, not right now anyway. Finn seems to follow his train of thought because he rolls his eyes. But a small grin plays at the corner of his mouth, so that’s some progress. There’s a nice open space in front of the huge living room window and Poe leads him to it. Finn’s still a bit stiff so, without hesitation, Poe plasters himself to his general’s back, staring with him out the window at the still-falling snow. Finn takes a deep breath in time with him, his reflection in the window easing in inches. Only when a little time has passed, and Finn feels more impatient and less anxious under his hands, does Poe say,

“They tried to teach us the Tallon Roll at the academy, probably a handful of us actually nailed it. And the key to it was feeling. Letting go.”

Finn’s mirror likeness frowns. “I don’t see what starfighter tactics are going to do for me on the ground.”

“When you do a Tallon,” Poe continues, “you’re tryin’ to get back on a bad guy you overshot. You bank in, roll up, slow and steady out and land behind him and _blam_ , you’re right where you need to be to take him out. The problem is there’s no instrumentation, no astromech that’s gonna be able to do those speed calculations for you. It’s all about feeling your ship on the stick.”

“So you’re sayin’ I need a stick? Know where I can find a good one?”

Poe snorts at the innuendo. “I can think of one good place but no, smartass. You don’t need a stick. But I _am_ sayin’ the principle’s the same. You don’t _know_ where the bad guy is gonna be. You don’t _know_ that you’re anticipating the right way or that you’ll even land where you need to. But you do it enough, you’ll land it every time.”

He waits. Finn asks, “What—what’s it feel like then? I get the principle. You have to go on instinct. But how’m I supposed to do that when I’ve never done it before?”

Poe doubts that very much, a mention of the Battle of Exegol, finding Chewie, sensing Ren, and countless other examples almost bubble out. But he puts a lid on it because that’s not what Finn needs right now.

“It feels like falling snow. Take the path of least resistance but stay your course to landfall,” he murmurs. Gingerly, he kisses Finn’s shoulder. Takes a step back and replaces his lips with his fingers. “Put your hand out. Tell me what you feel.”

Finn flings a hand out but it’s clear he’s not taking it seriously. “I feel a whole lotta nothin’,” he says, almost sheepish.

Poe cocks his head at the uncharacteristic shyness. “Are you trying though? C’mon, close your eyes. Work with me here.” When Finn slumps, acquiescent, he says gently, “You’re in control here. Any time you want to stop, you tell me and we’ll stop, ok? Just…trust me. I promise this’ll work.”

A beat. “Alright.”


	2. Chapter 2

Without another word, Poe fishes out the kerchief he tucked into his pocket. When he slides it over Finn’s eyes, his reflection’s lips part. When Poe tightens the knot at the back of his head, Finn actually sighs. A kind of stillness washes over him. Slow at first, but surely making its way from his head to his toes until the only movement left in his body is the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Poe swallows hard, mouth suddenly dry, but keeps his distance, only his hands on Finn’s shoulders. He has no idea what the Force is supposed to feel like really. Maybe this is a step in the right direction.

“Just put your hand out and tell me about the room. What you see without seeing. What you feel.”

“Ok, alright. I feel…” He’s silent for a long moment. “Warmth. From your hands. I know that there’s furniture around. The floor is some kind of wood. Smooth. Walls, ash-colored. Smells nice, sort of unused though.”

“Ok, good. What else?”

“I feel…you, behind me. More than anything else, it’s you. Not just your hands, but your fingers? Kind of like there’s fire in your fingertips. They burn, but in a good way. Something almost like a breeze through the room? It's not really there, but it's _there_. I’m not sure, it feels weird.”

Huh. It’s funny. Poe had a similar thought mid-flight—when his blood runs hot and his fingertips feel like fire on the stick, electricity zinging in his veins. Maybe using the Force is a bit like flying. Or maybe he’s just getting carried away in the metaphor. In any case, Poe eases himself back in, kisses from one shoulder to the other.

“You’re doin’ great. Ok, next part of the practice. I’m gonna let you go but stay back here. See if you can walk around the room without hitting anything.”

The surprise breaks the spell and Finn blanches. “What? Poe, I’m going to hit _everything_.”

“No, you won’t, sweetheart. Keep that picture of the room in your head. I’ll tell you to stop if you get too close to something.”

Finn takes a deep breath, almost reaching for Poe as he steps away. The Jedi even has the direction right; it’s like there’s no blindfold at all. His whole body turns and follows Poe as he withdraws and circles around him. Poe, for his part, stays silent. After a moment, Finn takes a hesitant first step, hand thrown out. But a few successful steps and his hand falls. Halfway around the room, his pace increases. Poe watches in amazement as he navigates every obstacle. In no time at all, he’s made a complete pass. When Finn comes close, Poe croaks,

“Stop.”

Finn comes to an immediate halt and Poe’s very glad for the blindfold so Finn doesn’t catch his shiver.

“Ok.” He clears his throat. “Next practice. Walk to me.”

That’s an easy enough request, he’s only a few paces away. Finn comes to rest right in front of him, position and posture flawless. Lips parted in a very…interesting way.

“Perfect,” he breathes.

Finn actually shudders himself, rasps, “What next?”

In all honesty, that was going to be the end of the lesson. But Poe knows what desperation sounds like on Finn and whatever this is doing, it’s really _doing it_ for him. Thankfully, Poe’s excellent at thinking on the fly.

“I want you to stand very still,” he says softly. “Don’t move your hands or anything. Here’s what I’m going to do: I’m going to touch you in different places. In your head, I want you to see if you can anticipate where I’m going to go.”

“This sounds like a great excuse for you to get your hands on me, Dameron.”

Maybe it is, but he’s definitely not going to admit that just yet. “Once my hand lands, I want you to say ‘right’ if you anticipated correctly, or ‘wrong’ if you don’t. Make sense?”

“I think so.”

The hesitancy is back, damn it all. “Take a few deep breaths. Picture me in the room in front of you. You got it?”

“I got it.”

“Ready?”

“Go.”

Poe decides to pick an easy place to start but he waits several long seconds to make sure Finn’s focusing. Once the Jedi’s breathing has evened out again, Poe reaches forward nice and slow. As soon as his hand lands on Finn’s cheek, he murmurs with a smile, “Right.”

“Good,” Poe praises. With his hand still on Finn’s jaw, he doesn’t miss the shiver. But he draws back again, considers. His hand lands on Finn’s shoulder.

"Wrong."

Poe notes the downward turn of his mouth. Tries for his chest.

"Wrong," Finn mumbles. "I don't know what I'm not doing.”

"It's ok," Poe soothes. "Take a breath." Finn breathes deep. "Hold it. Focus on me." Finn leans toward his voice, like he doesn't notice what he's doing. Poe swallows. "Can you picture me? Find me."

"I could always find you," Finn breathes.

Poe smiles. Indulges himself and strokes Finn's jaw. "I know." He waits a moment more. "You ready to try again?"

Finn sighs hard out his nose. "Go."

Poe tries a few new places. His neck. Right. Collarbone. Right again. Solar plexus, thigh, hip. He even crouches to touch the back of Finn’s knee. And his general only misses once. Confidence barely shaken now.

Time for something new.

“Try this. Catch my hand before it lands.”

He doesn’t give Finn as much time to think. Just dives straight in, aiming for Finn’s stomach. And of course, the Jedi catches his wrist. It’s not even a particularly tight grip but Poe has to shift, adjust his trousers at the touch. Stars, that’s just not fair. It’s not his fault Finn’s competence pushes all of his buttons. And just to make it worse, Poe tries to touch him again. Several times; each time caught. What he doesn’t quite register until it’s happened is that Finn’s even taking steps toward him. Plucking his hand out of the air and pushing Poe back slowly but surely to the wall. Does he know that he’s doing it? Damn him, probably.

“Alright, smart guy. Stop right there.”

Again, Finn freezes. This time with a sharp hiss through his teeth but he does as he’s told. Frantically, Poe glances back behind him, snagging a soft length of rope he’d hidden in the couch. This isn’t quite how he’d intended to break it out but might as well. This new idea already has his blood running hot. He pads back to Finn’s side as quiet as he can. Maybe trying to get a rise out of him but Finn’s as nonplussed as ever when Poe’s hand lands just above his ass.

“You’re gettin’ too good at this. Let’s raise the stakes a little, huh?” Poe asks, pitching his voice in a way that he knows makes Finn weak. And it works, because the Jedi tilts his head back and toward Poe, lips parting again and a hardness growing at his hips. “I’m gonna tie your hands behind your back, and you’re gonna have to dodge me this time. That sound alright?”

Before he even finishes, Finn’s fingers clasp behind his back and he’s nodding, “Yeah, yeah let’s try that.”

Poe huffs a laugh, carefully but securely looping the rope a few times around Finn’s able hands. “You just like a challenge, don’t you?”

“Are you kiddin’ me?” Finn gasps as the rope tightens. “I’d avoid all this if I could.”

Poe smirks. Steps close enough to lay a heated kiss on Finn’s neck. Whispers in his ear, “Liar,” and darts back out of reach.

For a moment, Finn stumbles, and Poe actually crows a little on the inside. Not so easy to trip up a Jedi. Even a new one.

“C’mon,” he calls. Finn rounds on his voice. “Don’t want you runnin’ into the wall now.”

It’s a blatant taunt but Finn grins and takes the bait anyway. And thank the stars, otherwise this sordid little plan isn’t going to work. Finn stalks forward, lithe and dangerous, and Poe consciously has to remember to breathe and not stare at the way Finn’s thighs flex.

“You gonna do something?” the Jedi teases. “Or you just gonna stare?”

Kriff, how did he know? Poe’s not sure if it’s because Finn can feel his eyes or if it’s just because he knows how Poe gets. Doesn’t matter though. Poe jabs forward, right for Finn’s hip. He tries to dodge; too slow. Poe lands a playful blow and Finn yelps.

“Gotta be quicker, baby.”

Finn scoffs and Poe maneuvers left. Finn rounds with him. Steps back as he steps forward. Misses the table in the center of the room and barely escapes Poe’s attempt. He’s so close Poe actually grazes his chest but his foresight’s getting faster. A faint spark buzzes in Poe veins and he wets his lip in anticipation. The air in the living room feels alive itself. Tight and flexing, the pressure of it pushing against his lungs as Finn centers his focus. He's felt that before, around Ren and Rey, but never like this from Finn. The power in it has his knees weak. Not from fear. From unfettered desire, arcing like lightning in his veins. Like flying. Stars. Poe aims for his shoulder; Finn ducks. Tries for his solar plexus; just misses. He gets crafty, aiming for a shin with his bare foot but that doesn’t get the Jedi either. It’s almost like a dance, especially with the graceful way Finn draws him in. He steps forward again; Finn goes back. And that puts him in perfect position. Poe grins. Even though he can’t see him, Finn grins back.

“Shame,” Poe pauses, panting softly. Whether from exertion or arousal, he’s not sure. “Looks like you missed something.”

“Doesn’t look like it from where I’m standing.”

Finn tilts his head in that cocky way of his. Saying without words, _You’re full of shit, Dameron_ , and Poe relishes the proverbial high ground.

Ha. “Yeah? Dodge this.”

He launches himself straight out. Finn’s eyebrows shoot up, he stumbles back—only for his calves to hit the couch. He lands flat on his ass, Poe pounces into his lap, bracing his forearms against Finn’s broad chest as his thighs spread over Finn’s hips. The Jedi wriggles but his hands are effectively trapped and, with no real leverage to get himself out, he groans.

“Not fair.”

Poe pets Finn’s chest. “Totally fair. I even gave you a warning that time.”

He doesn’t foreshadow his next move though, just bites and latches onto Finn’s neck with a hiss, sucking a darker mark into dark skin. Rolls his hips wantonly, cock trapped and aching between his trousers and Finn's stomach. The Jedi groans again, deep in his chest.

“You’re an ass.” It sounds like a reprimand but the syllables get drawn out when Poe decides to move up, suck Finn’s earlobe between his teeth. The angle makes him shift their hips together and Finn outright gasps. “Such an ass. I thought this was supposed to be training.”

“It was. I think you got the idea, don’t you? Sounds like you’re just bein’ a sore loser,” Poe murmurs, nosing along the line of Finn’s jaw and grinding down onto a _very_ promising hardness. “You want me to stop?”

“No!” Finn gasps as Poe sets his teeth on the other side of his neck. “You better finish what you started.”

Poe pulls back just a bit, just far enough to watch the way Finn’s chest heaves. How taut energy tightens all his muscles in anticipation. Admires the shine of spit on the side of his neck from Poe’s mouth; the glint of it on his lips from his own impatient tongue. Stars, he’s gorgeous. More than anything Poe’s seen in the galaxy. Hell, he’d give his ship up for scrap just to get his mouth on him. Who cares, right? He can always get another and it’d be worth it to see Finn fall apart again and again. Which is kind of the plan. Poe settles his elbows on the back of the couch on either side of Finn’s head, another idea springing to life. Threads his fingers into the Jedi’s messy twists and presses their bodies together, lips barely brushing Finn’s when he asks,

“You wanna keep training? Fine. You surrender?”

Finn tries to sit forward, to kiss the hell out of him no doubt. But Poe tightens his grip and yanks Finn’s head back. Kisses the tip of his chin instead in a tease of what he’s got planned. Stars, he _swears_ he could taste the tension. He doesn’t ask again though, and the silence pries Finn’s teeth wide open so a simple, “Yes,” slips out on a gasp. He’s still pulling forward though, pulling against Poe’s fingers in a desperate bid for more contact. And Poe, feeling way more smug and—dare he say— assertive than he should, whispers against Finn’s lips,

“I’m gonna ruin you, pretty boy.”

Any other time Finn would laugh and smack at him and they'd move on. But this time Poe means it with deadly intent and Finn just groans, fully and open-mouthed. Poe angles the Jedi's head, licks at his bottom lip, shoves his tongue in Finn's mouth, rough and demanding. He kisses him until Finn's gasping, panting into his mouth. Yanks him back a little harder than necessary but greedily swallows the whine behind Finn's teeth.

"Don't lose focus," he warns. "Same as before. Tell me if you're right or wrong."

"I--wha--"

At this point, Poe's too impatient to explain. Either Finn'll get it or he won't. He will though, Poe's positive of that. He traces the long, tight tendon in Finn's neck with his tongue. Bites at his pounding pulse and feels, "Right," tremble out of Finn's throat into his teeth.

"Good, good good." Poe slides down him; Finn squirms at the praise. "Stay focused. Focus on me."

He kisses the meat of Finn's chest.

"Right."

Sucks a nipple in his mouth. Finn bucks, almost shoves himself into Poe's teeth.

" _Ah--shit_ , right! Right--fuck.”

He pauses. Just long enough to let Finn come back down. Kisses a straining bicep. The Jedi sighs.

"Right..."

Presses his lips right over Finn's pounding heart. Down. Poe slides off Finn's knees into the floor. The hardwood hurts a bit but he stays his course, too engrossed in his task to care. He kisses Finn's ribs. Solar plexus. Hip. Just above the line of Finn's pants as he whines in anticipation. Then through the fabric, mouthing along the line of his cock jutting hard and hot and thick. Finn keens, hands shuffling behind his back like he wants nothing more than to bury his fingers in Poe's hair and keep him there.

"Right--Poe, please--"

"Shh, patience young Jedi," he teases. "Keep your focus. Remember? Bank in, roll up, slow and steady."

He doesn't mean it literally--he's not even sure he's talking to Finn and not himself--but Finn takes it like that, slows and rolls his hips into a phantom touch Poe hasn't even executed yet. He looks up the line of Finn's body, covetous. The blindfold's still in place, arms still behind his back and straining. The clench of his torso, the heat of him, the brush of his length against Poe's chin has him salivating. Mouth wet, desperate himself, all Poe can manage is,

"Perfect, good. So good for me."

He flattens his tongue over Finn's clothed cock, surreptitiously slipping his hands under the waistband of his general's trousers as he whines and thrashes. Eases them down by centimeters until Finn's cock springs free, curving up toward his chest in a mouthwatering line. His thighs pull and jerk in the fabric as he tries to spread them. Trapped. As much as he wants to pin Finn's hips to the couch and suck him fast and hard and rough and hear him scream, there's another idea bubbling in his brain. He runs his fingers soothing over Finn's thighs. Slowly but surely circles his cock with a hand, shivering as he tightens his grip and the Jedi's breath stutters. Just to tease, he runs his thumb up and down the underside of Finn's length, a horrible simulacrum of the pressure, the motion he so desperately craves and Finn gasps.

"Reach out," Poe murmurs. Stars, he sounds wrecked and he doesn't even have Finn in his mouth yet. "Tell me what you feel."

Without another word, he flattens his tongue against Finn's cock for real. Just the tip but it's enough--Finn shouts. Inarticulate. The air around them flexes and pulses in his lungs and squeezes him the same way Finn's arms would if he were holding him down and fucking him senseless. It's completely overwhelming. And not what Poe wants.

"C'mon, come on," he urges, focusing beyond the tight air. "Lesson's almost over. Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you."

That's not quite what he meant to say but it doesn't matter. It's the question he _wanted_ to ask. _How do you want it--how do you need it--tell me tell me tell me_. Questions batter desperate in his brain and to silence them, he fits his lips around the head of Finn's length. Salt and sweat bloom on his tongue and he groans. He doesn't have to say it; Finn hears him.

“Kriffin’ hell, I feel _everything_.” Finn sounds even worse than he does. Wretched. Panting. "I don't know how, I _feel_ snow falling. Wind around the mountain." Poe takes him an inch deeper. "Every kriffing molecule of air." Poe moans, hard and aching himself, gives Finn another inch but no pressure. Holds a firm hand against the Jedi's shallow thrusts. " _Fuck_ , you feel like star fire." Another inch. "Poe--I want--fast. Rough. I don't even wanna remember my own fucking _name_."

Fuck, that's exactly what he wants--lesson's over. He curves over Finn's hips, takes his cock all the way to the back of his throat and then some. Swallows around him, eases back and bobs his head as Finn shouts. He bears down. Buries his fingers so hard in Finn's hips there'll be bruises under that dark skin later, he's sure. Finn sobs at the restraint; it takes all Poe's weight to keep his hips still. And it's perfect.

"I can see you," Finn gasps, broken. "I can kriffin' see you and your mouth and your fucking hands are on fire-- _shit_ , Poe, please..."

Of course Finn can see him. Of course he can. He's so good, so smart. _Perfect perfect perfect_. Poe wants to tell him but he wants nothing more than to make his general fall apart. So he keeps his promise to ruin him. Fast. Hard. And rough. Mercilessly, Poe hollows his cheeks, sucks, pulls with all the pressure he feels flexing around him in the room and Finn pushes back so hard into the couch Poe almost loses his grip. It's a fight. A dance. A fucking glorious mess of noise and heat and spit that feels better than flying and Finn's thrashing only eggs him on. The Jedi's not even making words anymore. Just breathless begging, a litany of curses and Poe's name and nonsense. Poe can't help himself. Swept away with the feeling, he ruts against the couch. Spreads his knees wide like he's still over Finn's hips. Thinks about the cock in his mouth fucking into him with the same merciless speed, the same vicious purpose. The idea must float into Finn's head because suddenly his back arches. Lips open and close around a silent cry, and Poe could just die. There's a telltale tension in Finn's thighs. A burst of slick and salt on Poe's tongue--so close. He takes the Jedi deep again, jaw aching. Finn's thick length prying his teeth wide, pushing his throat open. Poe's hands clench hard on Finn's hips, he swallows one more time--

" _Oh_ \--fuck, _fuck_ \--Poe!"

\--and Finn spills down the back of his throat. Hot and heavy and thick. The Jedi arches and freezes, muscles locking in place in some mockery of supplication. Surrender. White-hot satisfaction burns in Poe's gut. His jaw, knees, thighs are on fire but who cares? He swallows again. Sucks Finn through an orgasm that shakes his entire body and rattles in Poe's teeth. He keens. Screams. So lost in whatever he's feeling through the Force he babbles Poe's name and nonsensical prayers to deities he's never believed in. He's pulling so hard at the ropes binding his hands Poe's sure he's going to snap them.

But a moment longer is all the Jedi lasts. Then he collapses in on himself, a dying star. Poe lets up on the pressure. Slowly but inevitably, he eases his mouth off Finn's cock. Keeps his grip firm but kisses gently at Finn's thighs as he trembles through to the end.

“How’s that for ruining?” he asks from somewhere between Finn’s thighs.

It takes a minute or two but Finn finally finds his tongue. “ _That_ ,” Finn pants, “was completely uncalled for.”

Poe chuckles, nips at Finn’s stomach and chest in reprimand. Tucks Finn’s softening length back into his trousers as he works his way back up.“The mouth on you…”

Finn gets his breath and snorts when Poe eases the blindfold off. “On _you_ , more like.”

“So unappreciated in my time.”

Finn’s big pretty eyes blaze, finally land on him. “Untie me and I’ll appreciate you all you want.”

There’s a hot, burning promise there that goes straight to Poe’s neglected dick. But it can wait for now. Finn’s earnestness actually does make him laugh and he concedes, pulling Finn forward and the rope off. He rubs at the chafed skin. Kisses the inside of Finn’s wrists. Fluffs his fingers back through Finn’s sweaty hair and settles in for a more serious question.

“Think the lesson worked?”

Finn’s hands, finally free, settle on his hips. Sneak under his shirt and stroke gentle patterns in his skin. “I think so. You sure you’re not a Jedi master?”

There’s a teasing lift at the corner of Finn’s mouth and Poe can’t help but kiss it. “Positive. But I’ll give you a lesson any time.”

Finn seems to take him at his word. Slides his hands up Poe’s back, drags him down into a longer, hotter kiss as the snow keeps coming on down outside.

Guess it must be time for Lesson Two.

**Author's Note:**

> ok look i love this lolol i hope you did too!  
> let me know what you think, i'd love to hear it!!
> 
> many MANY thanks to TheCarrot for listening to me talk about this and hosting the Krampus event. thanks to gmariam for the original prompt
> 
> and, of course, thanks to you for reading


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